


Cultured Love

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: Revolution (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime during 2X09. Just a short one-shot about what could’ve happened based on a beautiful, thought provoking poem given to me by JaqofSpades</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultured Love

_Love, from grain to grain, from planet to planet,_   
_the wind’s net with its dismal countries,_   
_war with its shoes of blood,_   
_or well the day and night of wheat,_

Silently, swiftly, they scoured the hall side by side. Checking each and every door before a sound directed their attention to an approaching eminent threat headed in their direction.

Charlie nestled her body, flattening it against the wall so tightly that at any given moment they were bound to mold into one. Her heart thumped loudly, tapping the inside of her ribs, creating a lulling sound that flowed through her ears. It erratically changed tempos when more footsteps gathered down the hall from them.

Bass’ however never changed pace, remaining neither fast nor slow, but controlled. This wasn’t his first dance; he knew how to manipulate the instrument to his advantage. Right now the environment required it to be quiet, but persistent, never letting him forget its presence. 

He knew how to play the instrument of his heart and body like Jimi Hendrix knew his guitar backwards and forwards. It could be controlled in every circumstance, including when it was bombarded with the onslaught of Charlie’s disappointed gaze as he looked towards the exit, then back at her face.

Fire burned behind her eyes in an unspoken challenge, tilting her head as he mimicked the action before strutting off towards the door. 

She couldn’t help the widening of her eyes when he turned his back towards her, when he turned his back on her.

Though his heart remained firm, following his feet as he fled, his mind wandered back to the enthralling, yet destroyed look etched on Charlie’s delicate facial features. The gleam in her eye was the reason for doing this. He left so that maybe it would create enough of a distraction, or if anything they would follow him. He did it because, at the time, it sounded like the most logical solution. But that haunting look in her eye was the reason his feet pivoted on their own accord, trudging back up to stairs.

No one knew how beautifully destructive love could be better than Charlie and Bass. Love, like any other grain, was cultured and grown in temperate countries. Mild, self-restraint, disciplined bodies, those were the prime conditions for love to flourish. Well it could grow either in presence of light, or blanketed under darkness.

No words could describe them better, temperate countries. The entirety of their bodies were disciplined, controlled, possessing neither the brightest of lights nor the darkest of nights.

Charlie stayed tucked away inside the darkness of a locker, listening for the sounds of footsteps. When she was satisfied there were none, she slowly opened the door, letting the light penetrate through the crack. She slipped out, gun in hand before being slammed back against the wall, cornered by two patriots.

That’s when a flash darted across her vision, a familiar blur she would know anywhere. Slicing through one guy’s neck, Charlie didn’t hesitate to follow through with her victim, shoving her knife inside the cavity of his chest.

Her chest heaved, not from exertion, but because her breath lodged itself in her throat, refusing to budge when she took in the sight of Sebastian Monroe standing before her.

She stood there for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath as she glossed over his eyes. There were so many emotions always brewing, they were forever rotating and changing. The one that consistently remained was similar to that of passion, desire…love.

And anytime they were together that intensity in his eyes and in her body language amplified, building off one another. Their love, extensively encompassing, stretching as far and wide as rotating planets, engulfed by the blackness that surrounds them. It spanned across space, a beautiful catastrophic marvel. Love made up every molecule, every compound, every atom.

“You came back.”

It wasn’t a question, nor was it an observation. Just a statement.

The mask on his face slipped for a fraction of a second, eyes boring into hers, down to her very soul before they shifted upon hearing noise.

“Go, go,” he ushered her ahead, all but kicking her heels.

Soft wind blew through the air as they ran. All of those passions and love hitched a ride, floating on the breeze they were creating, getting caught on the net of their frames as they drew it into their bodies as though foreign invaders conquering sunken treasure ship trinkets to take back to their countries. For adornment, for decoration, yet certainly for practicality. Love weighted heavier than gold and was of more valuable, it was too powerful for them not to use later.

Charlie was the first to enter the room, jumping over debris, plastering her back against another slab of concrete as Bass did the same on the other side. They created a barricade, working in perfect harmony firing blast after blast towards the encroaching enemy. They took turns, swapping out upon instinct when the other needed to reload or needed a breath. 

Bass couldn’t remember the last time he fought with someone who knew him so well. Who knew exactly when to back his play without so much as a breath. The last person he remembered was Miles. A fitting comparison, both Mathesons he loved, but in different ways. Maybe even in different magnitudes.

A fiery haze erupted, engulfing the last few patriots left firing, their bodies twirling as the flames grew higher.

Curiously, Charlie looked over to Bass, questioning what was going on, but he had no answer for her.

Her body yearned to glance back towards the scene of the crime, which is exactly what she did, drinking in the violent waves of fire as Bass unconsciously drifted closer to her upon instinct. 

His hands longed to reach out and yank her down, arms encapsulating her as if to shield her. And even though physically his hands stayed by his side, Charlie could feel the force of his arms looming over her, always at the ready. 

She had felt this kind of encasement before, in fact she felt it every time they shared a glance or spoke without the use of a single word. Their arms naturally created boundaries, borders in which to gather all the trinkets in, hoarding it close to their body to sway others from possession. They hoarded their love within the confines of their arms as if to keep it from the condemning eyes of others. It was an uninviting, distant atmosphere for all those forced on the outside of their arms, but inside, it was revolutionary.

Of course all revolutions made the ultimate price, the ultimate sacrifice for their cause, for their war. They knew the price of war, both externally and the war waged within themselves. 

They were drenched in blood. Though the blood wasn’t visible right at this moment, Charlie could still feel it caked on her hands, quickly crusting over as it dried in the breeze they had created. 

Blood of guilt flooded her mind with vivid visions of the last time they fought together. Any time they were together it only lead to violence and destruction, but as Charlie glanced over towards him once the fire had dwindled, she realized the demolition caused was worth the few moments of pleasure. 

Blood red with passion, desire, lust crawled up her body.

Likewise a coating of need buried Bass’ body as he took in the sight of Charlie, weapon at the ready as though always on guard, always prepared. She oozed this sugary liquid Bass would never get enough of, though yet to actually taste. Sometimes the imagination created something just as sweet as the actual thing. In this case, Bass had to disagree.

Standing, his body naturally hovered close to hers, reveling in the feel of her body practically drumming with desire. He followed as her eyes darted across the scene of charred bodies, trying to make heads or tails of the situation, until her eyes met his.

“I don’t get it, what happened? Who did this?”

Bass shrugged, “I have no idea kid.”

He couldn’t help the word tumbling from his tongue, eliciting a growl from deep within Charlie’s throat. It was supposed to sound annoyed, intimidated, domineering, but the hunger behind her eyes never backed up the weight of her primal sounds.

Instead Bass gravitated more towards her, the pull of his gaze acting like a magnet drawing Charlie’s body in.

Those feelings of lust retreated back down when more patriots entered the back door behind them.

_Wherever we went, islands or bridges or flags,_   
_there were violins of the fleeting, bullet-riddled autumn,_   
_the lips of the wine glass repeated the joy,_   
_pain stopped us with its lesson of weeping,_

Bass immediately sprang into action, tugging Charlie’s elbow as they bolted back through the doors they had only recently came from. 

It was foolish to think they outrunning was an option. Wherever they went, as long as they lingered close to one another, chaos would always find them. Whether they escaped to somewhere as big as an island, or somewhere as minuscule and small as another room down the winding, continuous bridge connecting one side of the building to another.

Their feet stomped against the tiled floor with each force of impact, kicking up dust and debris in their wake. Each time they drew a foot up, dragging across the ground, a sound vibrated around them. A steady, elongated serene sound. 

The melody closely resembled that of a violin, at least that’s what Bass’ thought anyway. He remembered going to recitals and band concerts in grade school, and although he was never interested in soft classical music, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it now. He remembered how the pressure placed upon the violin strings could create multiple different sounds and beats, but they always meshed well together. 

He and Charlie were alike in that they created very different sounds, but the collaboration combined in an aesthetically pleasing way…in every aspect.

Sounds of bullets ricocheting around them, booming in their eardrums sent Bass crashing back to reality as they took the stairs two at a time. He waited until the guy turned the corner before gripping the gun in his hands, using the butt of the gun to strike him hard in the face. He thudded as he bounced down each step in a staccato rhythm.

Charlie found a room at the top of the staircase to the left, it was as good as any to call their home front and let the battle come to them. She snuck inside, waiting for Bass to saunter through after he was done launching his sword into the chest of the enemy.

There was once a time when he was the enemy. Still an outsider for sure, but Charlie couldn’t quite define him as the enemy anymore. Somewhere along the way, between him saving her life and her saving his, they came to a sort of understanding. No longer enemies, but not friends yet either. She doubted they would ever be friends, not just friends anyway.

He threw pieces of furniture down, the muscles of his back screaming in protest against the confines of his shirt with each movement.

“You could help Charlotte,” he suggested after a few minutes.

“Why it’s not like any of this will help?” Her hollow voice concaved inwards. “Besides we can’t stay in here long, we have to get back to Miles and my mom. We have to find Aaron.”

She started to step towards the door but it flung open, only giving Bass enough time to draw his sword before advancing towards the guy. He rammed into him, knocking the gun to the ground, waiting for the clatter, but Charlie was there in a flash. 

Her hands wrapped around the gun, prying it from the guy’s hands before Bass plunged the sword into his midsection. Blood seeped out in streams, invading the backs of his hands before dripping to the ground in puddles.

The sword, glossed in a red hue, was removed as the body crumbled to the ground, landing at Charlie’s feet. That blood she imagined before now vibrantly springing to life as she moved backward. It was too late though; she could feel the saturation levels rising as her shoes guzzled up some of the blood before she could move away.

“Change of plans,” Bass announced suddenly as he shoved a window open. “We’re getting out of here.”

They were on the second story, but there was a ledge right outside enough for Bass to gain his footing on, and from there he’d be able to drop down.

“Forget it. I’m not leaving without Miles and everyone else.”

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for discussion. We’re leaving. It’s what Miles would want you to do. Hell it’s what Miles would do, and probably already did.”

“I’m not a child you can tell what to do. You can’t boss me around.”

Suddenly he spun on his heels, striding towards her until their faces were inches apart. “You’re right, you aren’t a child.”

Her body wracked with shivers as his sensual voice nipped lightly at her skin.

“You’re going to act like a grown adult and follow me out this window.” His back was turned to her but he could still feel her eyes bulging out of her head.

“Are you crazy? Out of a window? That’s your ingenious escape plan?”

“Nope,” his lips smacked together. “But that’s the only plan we’ve got right now, so I’m gonna go first, and then you follow.”

Glancing back at her one time, his lips formed a tight line. “I’m serious Charlie. Once I land on the ground, your ass better be next. You seriously don’t want me to have to come back up there and drag you out kicking and screaming.”

Her stance stayed stoic, arms crossed over her chest, but her eyes gave her away. She was going to comply. Bass could see it.

Shimming out the window, he took a few moments to gain his footing before propelling himself off, landing gracefully on the soil below. When his feet touched the ground, the scent of dirt infiltrated his nose, settling into his lungs. He could feel the squish of water harboring in the safe haven of the dirt as he turned around. 

These memories reminded him of fall when the dew set in the dirt during the early morning, but the temperature never rose enough to completely dry the water up. There was always a slight squish to it. 

Her tentative gaze found his as she glanced down. She had just watched him flawlessly execute the dismount, but she was nowhere near as elegant. 

“It’s not that bad, come on,” he encouraged.

He was a sociopath. He said what he needed to get what he wanted. Those thoughts rattled around the empty space in her brain. She remembered those words coming from her mouth, and she still meant them. But the tone in his voice this time conveyed a different message. He wasn’t trying to get something for himself; instead he was trying to comfort her. It brought about an odd feeling within her own body. It was kind of like the first few days of a new season, like the first few days of autumn after a particularly brutal summer. It was odd, but refreshing. New, but eagerly embraced.

Without thinking, she swung her leg over, copying the same motion he made earlier.

“Look, just drop down.”

That sounded so simple, so easy.

“I’ll catch you,” he didn’t miss a beat.

Her heart skidded, waiting for a snort or laugh to follow. She hesitatingly looked at his face when neither occurred, searching for sarcasm or a hidden joke. None were evident on his face or glistening behind his eyes. There was only sincerity, trust. 

Quickly, before she came to her senses, she let go, air pushing underneath her body before she landed with a grunt inside the security of Bass’ arms. Passion flourished, maturing within the span of a few seconds in one another’s embrace.

His hands lingered on her arms as her feet touched the ground, fingers ghosting along her smooth skin. Tersely, his arms fell to his side as he silently crept towards a way out of there where they wouldn’t be open targets for shooting practice. You know, in case everyone else hadn’t been flambéed. 

They would wait for the others, and if worst came to worst Bass could go back if there was a setback.

She stayed low and close to his side until trees surrounded them, protected by Mother Nature’s canopies a light misty fog further cloaking them.

“So what’s the plan now?”

“Why don’t you take a crack at coming up with plans and I’ll take over the role you do so well.”

She snorted, “So you don’t have a plan. Perfect.”

He turned around, seething with anger at her attitude. “My plan was to get you the hell out of there. So from where I’m standing, I’ve accomplished all I wanted to.”

She threw her hands up in the air when he stalked off. “Unbelievable. So you drag me out of the security of a building—“

“One crawling with patriots,” he retorted.

Charlie didn’t hear a word he was saying as she struggled to keep pace. “And lead me off the path and just say good luck. I don’t think Miles would be too happy with your poor decision making.”

“I didn’t do it for Miles,” he dead halted as he shifted back around. 

She cut him off mid thought, “well that would fit the pattern. I mean, you rescued me like some damsel in distress at that bar because you needed me to take you to him.”

Bass barked out a laugh, propelling it from the bottom of his chest until it glided past his lips. “You seriously think I needed you to take me to Miles? I’ve spent my entire life with the guy. I know him forwards, backwards, inside, and out. If I had really wanted to find him, I would have.”

With each sentence he strolled closer, blasting Charlie with the outpour of his confessions.

“Fine,” she snapped her jaw shut. “You didn’t need me. Whatever. But back there you said it’s what Miles would want—“

Bass vehemently nodded his head. “Which is the truth, that’s what he would’ve wanted. But that wasn’t fueling my actions. I didn’t get you out of there as a favor to Miles or some shit like that. I did it to protect you and so I could watch your back, but I’m not going to listen to you argue. I put up with enough of that as it is.”

“Protect me and watch my back? Like you did when you deserted me earlier in the hall? You were going to leave me to die—“

Two long strides and his face was inches from hers. He roared, pressing his body close to hers, a stern finger probing the center of her chest. “Don’t you dare fucking say that. I did that in order to create a distraction so they’d follow me instead or lurking around. So we wouldn’t have to fight our way out.” He dropped his voice to almost a harsh whisper. “So you wouldn’t have to have more blood on your hands.”

She just bitterly chuckled, shock flashing across his eyes. “To spare me from having blood on my hands? Look around you. There’s blood on everyone’s hands, but us?” She pointedly looked back at him, “we’re fucked. We don’t have blood on our hands; we have blood oozing out of every orifice of our body. Our skin is swimming in blood, and our lungs might as well be choking on it. If that’s the real reason you came back, then you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“If that’s not a good enough reason for you, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I didn’t say the reason wasn’t good. I said it wasn’t the truth, which it isn’t, so why not tell me that?”

His blank face erupted into a short laughter as he backed away a few paces. “Because everyone asks for the truth but they really don’t want it. It’s a hard dose they can’t seem to swallow.”

Taking the initiative Charlie moved first this time. “Yeah well I’m not everyone else. I’m asking for the truth from you, because you’re the only one who ever seems to give it to me straight. Because…for some reason, I trust you.”

There wasn’t any good answer truthfully, that’s why he didn’t give her one. He couldn’t even make up another one. There weren’t enough words to convey the logic behind his reasoning, so he opted for something else when he heard her vocal declaration of trust.

Yanking her elbow, he drew her body into his, grunting as they roughly collided and his lips slanted over hers. That hand immediately snuck into her flowing locks, twisting his fingers in the silky strands. His hands wined on the delicious scent of her tresses, greedily gulping down every drop as the strands slipped through his fingers.

Charlie remained frozen at first, allowing Bass the upper hand as his tongue darted out, devouring her mouth. 

When his tongue sleekly probed the crevices of her mouth she moaned, vibrations tickling Bass’ lips. His other hand splayed across her lower back underneath her shirt, exploring the exposed unexplored territory. His tender hand caressed the panels of her back, knuckles brushing against the curve of her spine, sinking into every indenture. Every line, every cut, every rough callous of his hand offered a striking contrast to how light and feathery his touch was.

Her hands gradually burst to life, fire ignited by even just the simplest touch, as they gingerly fisted onto the front of his shirt.

When air became essential for both of them he moved his mouth lower, making a trail along the smooth column of her neck. He delicately cupped her cheek as though she was composed of fragile glass and her neck a thin stem holding her head up and connecting it to the rest of her body.

Lavishly placing kisses along her neck, his teeth grazed the surface of her skin, earning short spurts of moans from her panting mouth. She repeated the sounds over and over, each time joy and bliss leaked out infusing together until it became music to Bass’ ears.

He wanted to give her much more joy than just soft murmurs and quaint hums of her body. 

_In all the republics the wind developed_   
_its unpunished pavillion, its glacial hair,_   
_and then returned the flower to its chores_   
_But in us, autumn never scorched_   
_And in our still homeland, love rose and grew_   
_with the rights of dew._

Dropping his jacket to the ground, his hands slid up the front of her body, taking with it her shirt as she readily complied lifting her arms over her head. Her vision swam with delight as his fingers drifted the denim jeans down her legs.

The power resided neither with Bass nor with Charlie. Their relationship, their dynamic was a republic in which the power equally resided within both of their bodies. Charlie willingly complied with his every touch just as much as Bass was a subject to the glorious temple of her body.

When she was fully bare he gently lowered her body to the ground until her back skimmed across the fabric of his jacket. Bass dedicated time and attention to ridding himself of the last remaining boundary between their naked bodies.

A cold shudder ran down her spine in anticipation as the pavilion of Bass’ body sheltered her from the outside world, taking the brunt of the brisk open air.

Charlie’s mind might have wanted to put up a bit of a struggle or a fight, but her body didn’t get the memo. No harsh words were spoken, no faces of displeasure or disgust displayed to serve as punishment. With that encouragement, Bass draped his mouth back across hers, groaning when she instantly responded to the stimulation of his satin lips producing a blissfully bruising force.

His fingers glided down, landing in between their bodies to stroke at the slickening heat of her core. She was already drenched with excitement, her pussy secreting the liquid as though it were a necessary part of the body, like blood that reproduced involuntarily. Rolling her hips up into his touch he instantly yielded, setting a slow rhythm as he nestled his fingers inside of her, thumb fondling that little bundle of nerves.

A low moan trickled glacially slow from her throat as her head shifted back against the ground and her hand cupped his forearm. Another shot of lust struck her core when she felt his muscles flexing underneath her touch.

When he could feel her resolve teetering on the edge, close to tipping the scale, he swiftly removed his fingers.

Her slippery folds made it easy for his cock to coast right in, letting out a primal, animalistic moan as her pussy welcomed him like an old lover. There was no time needed for her to adjust to his size. He fit snugly as though her counterpart, just painfully enough to be erotic, twisting the coil in her stomach to a barely bearable degree.

Charlie’s long, luscious legs languidly caressed his as her fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders. Her sweaty palms eagerly attempted to cup his shoulders, but the lengthy, fluid thrusts were too powerful for only a loose grip.

Bass never once noticed her firm grasp on his shoulders, too enthralled with the fortress of her walls fluttering against his straining dick. With each thrust he gained momentum, hooking his hands onto her hips for traction to keep from sliding out of her dripping, swollen sex. The same way ice always seems to slip from your clutches.

Tasked with the chore of holding his body weight up, Bass found that to be increasingly difficult the more her folds enveloped him. Regaining his sense of control, his hands moved to their new home on either side of Charlie’s head as her hip bones grated against his.

Drooping forward, his forehead rested against her collarbone when her faint purrs blossomed into persistent sobs. Her body began softly convulsing below him as her hands roamed down the contours of his lower back.

Grabbing a fistful of his ass between her palms, she heard him cry out. “Fuck, Charlie.” He knew neither of them was going to be able to hold on for much longer.

Steam from the onslaught of their scorching bodies pressed tightly against one another produced droplets of water that cascaded down. Their panting breath, striking the surface of one another’s skin, increased the moisture until a layer of dew wrapped their bodies.

The more moisture that collected on the exterior, the more that was produced within her. Charlie could feel the ambush of her orgasm approaching as her legs wrapped around his back. “Mmm…Bass,” the name effortlessly curled around her lips before spiraling from her tongue. No other words sloshed around in her mind, eyes rolling into the back of her head before she came.

Bass couldn’t help the pluck his heartstrings felt when her lips formed his name. And not the name she used to call him, not his formal name, but his nickname. It was a loud and clear, conscious acceptance of him, of the situation.

With one final thrust he exploded inside her as Charlie continuously contracted around him, biting her lip in order to stifle her moans of pleasure. Their sated moans filled the air, getting carried away on the breeze echoing around them.

Besides their chests heaving up and down, gently rapping against one another’s, they remained still in anticipation.

They waited for the sting of the blow, for the scorch of the sun that’s inevitable when you fly dangerously close on your feathered wings. But neither came. They couldn’t feel the scorch because the clouds of their body smothered the sun. They weren’t left in darkness. Instead a hazy luminous glow shone through, similar to the one around their intertwined bodies.

The more time he spent home inside of her body, the more his love expanded, the more it grew. Some things required precision, dedication, time, and effort in order to promote growth. For love to grow, amongst those two, it only needed the opportune conditions always present. It only required their temperate climate of their passionate bodies.


End file.
